Lee (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
atehimrightup) wrote2025-08-20 08:54 pm
atehimrightup) wrote2025-08-20 08:54 pm
Entry tags:
happy birthday, george
Lee has never put much stock into birthdays. His own never really mattered to him, because it never really mattered to anyone else. He would always try to get something for Kayla on her birthday, but that was about the extent of it.
All that is to say that Lee feels woefully prepared to plan a birthday for his-- whatever George is. Boyfriend? That feels so juvenile, like it isn't important enough.
He stresses about it more than he probably needs to, but he's never had the opportunity to celebrate something like this with someone he cares about. Which is already sort of a big deal, but George was the lover of a literal king and was undoubtedly showered with expensive gifts on a regular basis. Lee has no idea how to compete with that, even though he can hear George's voice in his head telling him that it isn't a competition. Which is good, because he'd probably lose.
The actual night isn't much of a problem. He comes up with a plan pretty easily, one that's simple but romantic, he thinks. It's the gift that's the problem. Because nothing in this whole goddamn city is good enough for George. Nothing that he can afford, anyway.
Just days before, he still hasn't found anything and he's getting sort of desperate. He distracts himself by going on a hunt because he really does need to eat, which sort of just makes him feel worse because of the guilt. But the guy is (was) a verified scumbag and women walking alone at night will be safer without him around, so he doesn't feel too bad.
In the guy's pocket is a receipt for a pawn shop that Lee has never heard of, so he goes to check it out the next day. It's in a terrible part of town and there isn't really even a sign. Inside it's dusty and unorganized and Lee just assumes it's some sort of front for something else. Still, he decides to look around while some guy comes out from the back and eyes him with wary suspicion, like he's surprised to see someone in the shop at all.
He finds a dusty jewelry display case and heads toward it hopefully, crouching down in front of it. Inside are mostly gold chains and tennis bracelets, all generic shit that wouldn't suit George at all, and he's about to give up when he spots a blue velvet box tucked back into a corner, half-hidden under a gaudy necklace. It looks like earrings and Lee rises to his feet and coolly asks to take a look at them, not wanting to show any excitement and inadvertently drive the price up. He knows how these places operate.
The guy takes them out of the case and Lee picks them up, doing his best to keep a placid expression even though he's pretty sure he just found what he's looking for. The box looks well-preserved but very old, as do the earrings themselves. He has no idea if the stones are real, but they look like it. There's a small piece of yellowed paper tucked inside, and when Lee discreetly unfolds it he finds elegant cursive scrawl and, most importantly, it's dated 1827. That confirms that they’re old, probably very old, and this guy doesn’t seem to really realize what he has. They're perfect.
Lee is prepared to use every trick in his arsenal to haggle a deal, but it's not even that hard. The guy seems wholly uninterested in this alleged business, and Lee is annoying and persistent, so he ends up getting them for a price that, while painful, won't leave him destitute. When he leaves the shop, earrings tucked carefully into his pocket, he feels lighter than he has in days.
George's birthday comes and they sleep in, then fuck a few times and sleep some more. Lee makes them a late lunch and then tells George that he needs to go run a few errands before they go to dinner, but there's an obvious twinkle in his eye. He leaves George's apartment and goes to his own where he's left all the supplies, and then goes and sets everything up before heading back toward George's building, texting him and telling him to come downstairs, even as he parks and gets out to go meet him by the elevators in the lobby.
He's nervous, but he thinks that this might actually go well. He might actually pull it off.
All that is to say that Lee feels woefully prepared to plan a birthday for his-- whatever George is. Boyfriend? That feels so juvenile, like it isn't important enough.
He stresses about it more than he probably needs to, but he's never had the opportunity to celebrate something like this with someone he cares about. Which is already sort of a big deal, but George was the lover of a literal king and was undoubtedly showered with expensive gifts on a regular basis. Lee has no idea how to compete with that, even though he can hear George's voice in his head telling him that it isn't a competition. Which is good, because he'd probably lose.
The actual night isn't much of a problem. He comes up with a plan pretty easily, one that's simple but romantic, he thinks. It's the gift that's the problem. Because nothing in this whole goddamn city is good enough for George. Nothing that he can afford, anyway.
Just days before, he still hasn't found anything and he's getting sort of desperate. He distracts himself by going on a hunt because he really does need to eat, which sort of just makes him feel worse because of the guilt. But the guy is (was) a verified scumbag and women walking alone at night will be safer without him around, so he doesn't feel too bad.
In the guy's pocket is a receipt for a pawn shop that Lee has never heard of, so he goes to check it out the next day. It's in a terrible part of town and there isn't really even a sign. Inside it's dusty and unorganized and Lee just assumes it's some sort of front for something else. Still, he decides to look around while some guy comes out from the back and eyes him with wary suspicion, like he's surprised to see someone in the shop at all.
He finds a dusty jewelry display case and heads toward it hopefully, crouching down in front of it. Inside are mostly gold chains and tennis bracelets, all generic shit that wouldn't suit George at all, and he's about to give up when he spots a blue velvet box tucked back into a corner, half-hidden under a gaudy necklace. It looks like earrings and Lee rises to his feet and coolly asks to take a look at them, not wanting to show any excitement and inadvertently drive the price up. He knows how these places operate.
The guy takes them out of the case and Lee picks them up, doing his best to keep a placid expression even though he's pretty sure he just found what he's looking for. The box looks well-preserved but very old, as do the earrings themselves. He has no idea if the stones are real, but they look like it. There's a small piece of yellowed paper tucked inside, and when Lee discreetly unfolds it he finds elegant cursive scrawl and, most importantly, it's dated 1827. That confirms that they’re old, probably very old, and this guy doesn’t seem to really realize what he has. They're perfect.
Lee is prepared to use every trick in his arsenal to haggle a deal, but it's not even that hard. The guy seems wholly uninterested in this alleged business, and Lee is annoying and persistent, so he ends up getting them for a price that, while painful, won't leave him destitute. When he leaves the shop, earrings tucked carefully into his pocket, he feels lighter than he has in days.
George's birthday comes and they sleep in, then fuck a few times and sleep some more. Lee makes them a late lunch and then tells George that he needs to go run a few errands before they go to dinner, but there's an obvious twinkle in his eye. He leaves George's apartment and goes to his own where he's left all the supplies, and then goes and sets everything up before heading back toward George's building, texting him and telling him to come downstairs, even as he parks and gets out to go meet him by the elevators in the lobby.
He's nervous, but he thinks that this might actually go well. He might actually pull it off.
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“Fuck.” Lee shoots an arm out and fumbles around for his phone, tucked safely in the corner of the bed with George’s. He picks it up and hands it to George over his shoulder. “Yeah, I wanna see.”
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George shifts, sitting up and tugging the blanket down low enough that Lee is naked from shoulders to knee. He frames a shot and takes the photo, making sure that all of the bruises and lurid bite marks on Lee's pale skin are clear, and then he lies back down, holding the phone where Lee can see it.
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“Fuck, you really did a number on me,” he says in a low voice, almost a growl. He blushes slightly, glancing up at George’s face. “I like it.”
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"Yes?" asks George, his dark eyes studying his face as he studies the photo on the phone's screen. He tilts his head, fingers idly brushing the already scabbed scrapes on his chest. "How much?"
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Eventually his gaze drifts to where George is touching the scratches on his chest. Lee’s heart seems to stall for a moment and he shifts his hips almost subconsciously, hips pressed down against the air mattress.
“How much do you like those?” Lee counters, reaching out to curl his fingers around George’s wrist. “They aren’t as pretty as bites, but fuck. I love seeing my marks on you.”
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He feels the way that Lee's hips shifts, suspects that he knows what's caused it.
"I love them," he says. "Knowing you left them there."
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He surges forward suddenly, grabbing the back of George’s neck and pulling him in for a kiss that tastes like sleep, licking at George’s tongue and then dropping his mouth to George’s chest. He drags his tongue over the scratches, sliding one hand down to grab at his ass.
“I can still taste you on my tongue,” he admits in a low voice, licking the scratches again to chase the faint edge of copper. “That blood pumped through your heart, touched every single bit of you. Now it’s in my belly.”
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It's possibly the most romantic thing that anyone's ever said to him. He groans, leaning into the kiss, his hips rocking back to press his hips into Lee's hand.
"I love that," he says. "The thought of that."
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“I’m glad,” Lee says sincerely, pressing a kiss just over George’s heart and then lifting his head to seek out his mouth, kissing him softly and leaning against him.
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George hums contentedly into the kiss, his fingers coming up to brush along the sharp line of Lee's jaw.
"Would you fuck me?" he asks. "Or do you want me to fuck you?"
Either way, it's something he wants.
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“Mm, I might have to do it real slow, though,” he says warmly, settling between George’s thighs. “Or we could pop the damn bed.”
And for no other reason, of course.
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"Slow's fine," says George, sprawled on his back with a knee bent on either side of Lee to cradle his hips and a hand on either side of his head. "Lovely, even."
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He gets his fingers slick and reaches down between his legs to rub at his hole, massaging at the ring of muscle before slowly pressing his middle finger into him while kissing his jaw.
The sun is coming up around them. Watching the sunrise used to be one of favorite things in the world. This morning, he hasn’t looked up once. Nothing he could see could even come close to the view right in front of him.
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It's slow, almost lazy, and it's exactly what George wants, right then. He rolls his hips, enjoying the sensation of Lee's finger inside him, lifting his head to look for another kiss.
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He strokes his cock once to get it wet and feeds it into George’s body, gasping against his mouth.
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Lee presses his cock into him, one slow inch at a time and George moans softly, his head falling back. It isn't the first time they've had sex like this, both of them barely awake. Somehow, it always feels so different.
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He moves slowly, not because of the air mattress or because he’s tired but just because he wants to savor every single moment. He wants to show George how special he is, and how grateful Lee is to him for simply existing.
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"Not as good as you," says George, certain that that's the case. He lifts one leg, hooking it around Lee's thigh, one hand dropping to squeeze his arse. "Nobody's ever fucked me like you do."
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Their mouths meet and they kiss, deep and messy, with Lee holding the back of his head and rocking his hips, pulling nearly all the way out and sinking in slow and deep, over and over again.
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it's so easy to fall into a rhythm like this -- rise and fall, the tangle of their mouths, the rock of their hips. George isn't lying -- it's never felt quite like this. His free hand comes up to tangle in Lee's hair, the other still squeezing his bruised arse.
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He lets out a low groan and pulls back to stare down at George like he’s in awe, shifting his hand to cradle his cheek reverently, stroking at the corner of his mouth.
“Sometimes I’m not so sure this isn’t heaven,” he admits, feeling like he can say almost anything in the warm safety of George’s arms. He grins like he realizes how ridiculous that sounds, then leans in to kiss him again.
“But I know it’s not,” he says as he rolls his hips a bit harder, nipping at George’s lip and tugging at it playfully. “No way either of us are getting into heave.”
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Like everyone when he was born, George had always had a hope but he'd thought it less and less likely, the older he got. Lying here like this, fucking like this, he can't help but think it doesn't matter.
"Fuck heaven," he says. "If I've got you."
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“You’ve got me,” Lee assures him breathlessly, resting their foreheads together as he rolls his hips, trying to somehow convey all that he’s feeling with the worshipful way he moves his body. “For as long as you want me, I’m yours.”
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George honestly can't remember the last time he looked at someone else and thought about fucking them. It's just something that doesn't occur to him anymore, because of Lee. That, in and of itself, is a marvel.
"That feels good," he mumurs. "Keep doing that."
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“Nothing has ever felt as good as you,” he murmurs against George’s mouth, licking at his full bottom lip. “Nothing ever could.”
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